


Tug of War (Pilot Version)

by twiniitowers



Category: The Omen (Movies)
Genre: Depression (Trigger warning), Gen, Homophobic insults (Trigger Warning), Satanic Family, Sister Bond, Suicide Attempt (Trigger warning), What Happens When Your Shrink is a Disciple of Your Father?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-05-22 18:33:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6090196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twiniitowers/pseuds/twiniitowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a companion piece to Thirty, so if you don't want to be spoiled to what happens there, don't read here.<br/>This is just a companion piece written by me for a pilot version about the Thorn family and what do you do when your therapist is a disciple of your father and you really have in no interest in anyone's religion when your own sanity is at stake?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bedtime at Thorn Manor

**Author's Note:**

> Handy Age Guide  
> Damien - 46  
> Mark - 46  
> Deana - 40  
> Millie - 21  
> Greta - 37  
> DJ - 16  
> Monica - 61  
> Martha - 3

**TRIGGER WARNING!!!!!**

 

**IF THE PERSON READING THIS OR SOMEONE THEY ARE CLOSE TO HAS ANY MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES. PLEASE DON'T READ THIS STORY.**

**IT DEALS WITH MENTIONS OF SUICIDE, DEPRESSION, ANXIETY, AND HOMOPHOBIA.**

**IF THE PERSON READING THIS OR SOMEONE CLOSE TO THEM IS SUICIDAL - PLEASE CALL A DOCTOR, 9-1-1, OR**

 

 

  * **Call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline**

**1-800-273-8255**

 




**TRIGGER WARNING ENDING. STORY BELOW.**

 

 

**Thorn Manor**

**2014**

The wind rattled against the windows of the old manor house causing Millie Thorn to shiver and put the covers over her head. She was always cold. Not the house wasn't drafty at times, it just seemed that her room was the coldest one in the house.

How could she feel better when she knew what was going on? She tried to believe that her father, like her, wasn't mentally all there. He was crazy too...just like Robert Thorn, his father, but NOT his father. Millie wasn't half sure that it wasn't all some big lie. Just like those old documentaries about people with God complexes who start cults and kill their followers. Was her father one of those agents for the dark side? Yet, she loved Damien with all of her heart, and even though she knew she was biologically Mark Thorn's kid, Damien Thorn WAS her father, just like Deana was her mother, and not Maureen who died in childbirth. She might have had Mark and Maureen's features, but they _were not_ her parents. No wonder this drove Mark to drink back in the day. She felt bad for him, she did love him, but he wasn't her father. She only felt guilty about wanting his second wife and annoying child dead. It was just something she stated like when someone says, "I'm so mad I could kill someone." Not really. They were just words. And words to Millie Thorn could either be a comfort or a burden.

Millie wished there was someone to talk to but every time she saw a shrink, they were all disciples of her father, it was for everyone's protection so they said, but Millie knew it was just so they could all run back and tell Damien "the scoop". Was her father really The Antichrist? He and everyone else thought so. They all had the markings. Even her. She had her _666_ in the same place all of Damien Thorn's kids did. Yet she didn't feel like Damien and Deana's spawn even though she considered them her parents. Millie felt someone crawl into her bed, the only light coming into the room besides the moon outside was from her clock and the dimmer light on her end table.  
  
"Hi, Big M."  
  
It was Millie's baby sister, Martha. The three-year-old who talked like she was forty-five and who had small bursts of psychic flashes, which made her much more smarter than her or her stupid horny, who thought he was entitled to the whole empire, brother. If anyone was the heir apparent Millie figured it'd be her little sister. Even if something happened to Damien now, this kid had a mature connection with Satan.  
  
"Hi, Little M. Shouldn't you be in bed?"  
  
"I can't sleep."  
  
"You do know it's okay to be a little kid right?" Millie wanted to see her sister play around in the mud and get her nice dresses all dirty. But she was just like a little adult. She was motivated like her father, snobby and cultured like their mother. She'd never get dirty on purpose.

"I don't like to get dirty."

"How are you, sweetie?" Millie wanted to the attention completely off her.

"Good. Would you please turn on the light so you can see my new collectible doll?"

Millie really didn't want to turn on the light, but she loved her sister, and didn't want to disappoint her by not seeing her new ultra expensive porcelain doll so she tapped the light on.

She was blonde, blue eyed, wearing a blue and white Victorian dress, matching shoes, and complete with a blue hair ribbon.

"She's very pretty."

"Mommy ordered it for me from Paris. Daddy will put her on my top shelf for me."

"Is it okay to turn this off?"

"Of course, Millie. How are you? _Are you okay_?"

Why couldn't her sister just be a normal three-year-old? It's not like she could lie to Martha. Was her sister sensing something? Would she run to Damien?

"I'm just exhausted."

"I just want you to know that Greta loves you."

"I know and I love her too...I really don't want to talk about this, Little M. You can tell Damien that I am fine."

"But you aren't really fine."

Did Millie still have to prove she wasn't going to OD on her medication or attempt to slit her wrists with a kitchen knife? She could still feel like crap and not be suicidal.

"I'm _not_ going to do anything...are _you_ seeing the contrary?"

"No. You can sleep Millie. Greta will be home soon."  The little sister kissed her big sister on her cheek before grabbing her doll and quietly leaving the room.

Millie sighed after Martha left.

Millie thought about Greta again. She loved her for sticking by her. It had been a few long years, but Millie got her, her job back and requested that Damien pay for her to go to nursing school. All Millie ever wanted to do as of late was sleep. She could do her book editing at home on her many electronic devices, but it was Damien and Deana who _suggested_ if she wasn't going to university, she could go to work in an ivory tower everyday. It's not that she wanted to. She didn't want to do anything. Things still weren't right and she was sick and tired of pretending that they were. No one cared about her thoughts. Her ideas. There was the undercurrent that everything she thank, did, and said was wrong. She was screaming on the inside, but no one really heard her. As much as she loved Greta she wished she would move far, far away from her. The only reason why Millie got her, her job back, was because it was her fault in the first place that she quit. She could never know the truth about her family and neither could Mark. It was all on her fucking shoulders _yet again_. She didn't care about in the religious sense about God or Jesus just as much as she didn't care about Satan and his son..... _her father._ What in the ever loving fuck? Why were they keeping her around? She could've died. Damien could have let her successfully overdose on her medication years ago, but he did not. Why? All Millie wanted was to be able to be with Greta, read her books, and be left the fuck alone. She didn't want to embrace the dark. She didn't want to embrace the light. She wanted NONE of it. Maybe if she were lucky her and Greta could start a family one day, but not under these circumstances. Yet, Greta couldn't know any of these thoughts. Let Greta think that Damien had an affair with Maureen and that was why she was born, because she wasn't Mark's kid. 

Millie went over the list in her head over and over again like an old record stuck in its groove.

 _Martha_ \- She loved her little sister to death, but with her exceptional gifts at such a young age, there had to be a real reason why she was born and it wasn't because Damien and Deana wanted to have "one more child". Was Millie going to be killed one day so the golden daughter could take her place?

 _DJ_ \- Her overly sexed up and snotty brother, who did not deserve to have his father's name, let alone, look like him. She loved him when he was little, but was he going to be groomed? Damien was so harsh with him, she had no trouble making the leap that he could be killed. And again, if her stupid brother could be killed. What about her?

 _Deana_ \- She would throw all of her kids off a cliff if Damien or Satan ordered it. She loved her mother very much, yet she knew this was true.  The only reason why Monica, the cook, was safe was because Damien liked her cooking. It was all so simple and yet all so terrifying.

 _Mark_ \- If he knew the truth, he'd be dead.

 _Greta_ \- Rinse and repeat.  Millie didn't ever want to think about anyone being harmed -- especially the woman she loved and wanted to spend her life with.

Millie did not want to live if any of them died. It scared her to death. Damien always encouraged his kids to ask him questions. Yet, she knew there could only be one answer. Of course, if people accepted the darkness, they'd be spared. What if they didn't? What if they didn't want the dark, but they didn't want the light either?  Where did this leave Millicent Mary Thorn? She knew Greta could never see her like this because she couldn't talk to her about any of it and she hated keeping these deep secrets with the woman she wanted to marry. She just closed her eyes, laid on her side and pulled the covers over her head. It was best not to deal with any of this at all.

* * *

**Corridor**

Damien was walking up the main staircase trying to forget what just happened ***** as he heard little feet above him.

"Why are you up so late, Martha my dear?" When got to the top of the stairs Damien picked up his youngest daughter and kissed her on the cheek.

"I _am_ going to bed, daddy."

With her capabilities that was definitely not an acceptable answer. DJ ate paste when he was three, this kid was brilliant.

"Again why are you up so late?"

"Millie is sad. She says she's fine. It's the usual stuff. Will you visit her after you tuck me in bed?"

"Of course."

"Did you see the doll mommy bought for me?"

"It's lovely." and Damien knew he had a job to do. He quite agreed with Millie and wished that Martha would take the time out to just be a kid. There would be a time and a place for her gifts to be utilized to the fullest, but for now she could still play and be a child. There was nothing wrong with recreational pursuits and there were times when even he needed time off.

When they got to her room, Martha flicked the light switch, and Damien put her doll on her top shelf where it joined the porcelain house that doubled as a bank.

"I don't want a story, daddy. Just let Big M know that you love her. She worries about such things."

Damien covered Martha up and kissed her on her forehead. "I love you."

"I love you too. Hail Satan and _you_."  Martha whispered even though it was impossible for Millie to hear her in here.

Damien smiled as he watched his daughter yawn and quickly fell asleep before he turned off the light.

* * *

**Millie's Room**

Millie still couldn't sleep, but she knew Martha told Damien, and she didn't feel like to talking to anybody. Even her father. Especially her father. He never seemed to understand her talks. Neither did her mother, but Damien was _different_.

Millie heard Damien enter her room. Nope. Not tonight. Her mind couldn't take it.

"Okay, Millicent, my sweet, Miss Mary....we both know that you are awake...just know that we all love you and you can _always_ talk to me about _anything._ " Millie kept her eyes closed as she felt her father kiss her on her head.

_Damn it._

* * *

**Master Bedroom**

Damien Thorn was exhausted and didn't know if he should take a hot bath or just collapse into bed. Deana had fallen asleep, sitting up in their bed, her back against several billowy pillows with a magazine open across her chest. She was wearing a sheer white nightgown. Even when she was sleeping she was most pleasing.

Damien didn't have to move an inch as she blinked open her eyes.

"Hi, honey." She covered her mouth to stop a yawn.

Damien went over to his wife for a kiss.

Deana put her hands on Damien's shoulders and brought him closer to her.

"I needed that..." 

"Would you like me to start a hot bath for you?" She started to unbutton his shirt.

"That would be nice..."

* * *

**Millie's Room**

Who could sleep? Millie was spent, but every time she closed her eyes, she could not sleep. Greta should be home soon. Maybe, she'd be able to get some slumber if she could snuggle with her girlfriend.

* * *

**Master Bathroom**

Damien pressed the button to activate the jets in the bathtub while Deana put the dropper back in the bottle of the chamomile oil and placed it on the shelf. 

* * *

**Foyer**

Greta sighed. She wasn't used to this as she pressed the code quickly on the panel by the door so the alarms would not accidentally go off.  She had no problem cleaning and doing all sorts of chores in this house when it was her place of employment, but living here, was certainly different than being part of the Thorn housekeeping staff. If there was one thing that she appreciated about Damien and Deana Thorn, it was the fact that they did not care that she and their daughter were lesbians. They didn't even care about their substantial age difference. They didn't even care that it started when Millie was a minor at sixteen-years-old. It was the wealth that made Greta nervous. The Thorn's weren't rich. They were beyond wealthy. But she didn't want to bother Millie with such trivialities as she knew Millie had a great deal of emotional problems that she had since she was a child.  That was more important than Greta's feeling uncomfortable around all the opulence in the manor.

Greta put her books on the side table, but then thought better of it, she'd put them on the desk in her and Millie's room.

She heard a noise coming from the kitchen and went to investigate.

* * *

**Master Bathroom  
**

Deana sat on the tub's edge while she massaged her husband's shoulders.

"Damien, do you still leave for Cairo tomorrow?"

"Hmm...Yes....and don't you worry, I'll be fine. I know how to take care of myself."

Even if they did have the seven Daggers of Megiddo in their possession, the older Damien got the more Deana worried on the inside, but she never wanted to show that to her husband. She was supposed to keep up a brave front, especially for the children.

"Of course."  Deana kissed the top of his head.

* * *

**Kitchen**

Damien Thorn, Jr. was pissed. His father had quite the right hook. But there was a reason for all of this bullshit. How come his father didn't want to see?

He wanted to order one of the stupid maids to pick up the glass he broke but his thoughts were interrupted by hearing someone in the distance.

"Oh good. Here comes one of the carpet munchers now....."

"Always good to see you, DJ," She would have been concerned over his black eye, but not after that remark, "And I really hope that you don't expect me to clean that mess up. I'm not a maid anymore."

She just wanted to see her girlfriend and make sure that she was okay.

* * *

**Martha's Room**

The little girl with the brilliant and useful mind tossed and turned in her bed...all she could see in her head was a small bottle...like the kind that housed baking extracts.

* * *

**Millie's Room**

Greta didn't even feel like getting undressed and washing her face. But she took off her clothes in a hurried fashion and just slid in the bed next to Millie.

"Good night, Greta." Millie said to discourage Greta from talking any further. Millie was so sick and tired of talking. She rested her head on Greta's chest.

"Good night, Millicent. I love you."

"I love you too."

"By the way, how did your brother get a black eye?"  Greta wasn't going to share his remarks with her girlfriend.

Millie felt her body tense up. _Great._ Another fucking thing that was her fault.

"...I don't know...." Damien. It had to have been her father. What did he do? Clock him because he said something about her?

Greta could sense that Millie needed to rest. "You sleep, love....we'll have breakfast tomorrow."

She didn't want to eat, but she didn't want to be hooked up to an IV again. "Sure. 'Night."

"'Night."

* * *

**Master Bedroom**

Normally Damien and Deana would have had another satisfying for the both of them marathon sex session before collapsing on each other out of pure ecstasy, but there were other more important matters at hand.

"Dee, make sure you compose an email  - no better yet phone Jeff before Millie wakes up." Jeff was Millie's boss at the publishing house.

"Okay, Damien, will do."

"She may work electronically....see if she will see Dr. Martel. If she doesn't want to go to his office, he can come here." 

Deana squeezed Damien's hand. 

"Yes. Will Millie be okay?"

"In time. Mark is supposed to come over next week to visit. If I am not back by then, just email or text me anything of interest." 

Damien missed Mark a great deal and it took them a very long time to get to this place where they even tolerated each other but he absolutely had no regrets. Millie was _his_ priority and that was final.

"Of course.. _my Lord_."

"Sleep well, my Lady." 

They kissed each other lovingly before slumber.

* * *

**DJ's Room**

He turned off the sink after washing his hands in his bathroom. Watching and jacking off to porn always made him feel better. If he had access to the money that was rightfully his, he'd have definitely have purchased Janet and Tabitha and keep them locked in the basement for his own amusement.

He opened up his laptop and opened up Millie's email page that he had hacked. He needed to get information somehow.

He did have a folder of his sister's lesbian porn movies, and there were some "master thespians" there that he also wanted to keep prisoner to cater to his whims. But that's not what he wanted to do right now.

He had this program installed where he could read his sister's new messages but they wouldn't lose the bolded tag.

**Mark Thorn**

_That fucker._

DJ Thorn couldn't stand him. The "cousin" of Damien Thorn indeed. Why wasn't he dead by now? His father was too close to the situation and kept giving Mark, chance after chance, break after break.

_**Dear Millie,** _

_**I will be arriving in Chicago next week. I'm hoping to see Corrine in Othello. I look forward to seeing you. I hope you are doing well and are enjoying your job at the publishing house. ** _

**_Love Always,  
Mark _ **

DJ wanted to throw up. How was Mark snagging such distinguished pussy as Corrine Randall? The classically trained actress who could have had her pick of any guy in the theater world and she chooses that common asshole? 

DJ looked at his at face in the mirror he kept on his end table. It really wasn't Millie's fault, It was Mark's.  Since his father and grandfather were doing jack shit about it, DJ figured it was entirely up to him to remedy this situation and what better way then by murdering Mark? He just needed to figure out how to get the job done.

They would all thank him for this one day.

DJ turned his computer off and closed his eyes. Tomorrow was another day....another day closer to Mark Thorn's demise.

"The future is now." He whispered into his pillow before letting sleep take him.

* * *

  _ ***Author's Note: Will be shown in a flashback.** _

 


	2. Morning Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the next morning...and Millie feels it will never get better.

*****FOLLOWS CHAPTER 1 TRIGGER WARNINGS*****

 

 

**Chapter 2**

**Morning Sunshine**

**Master Bedroom**

Deana Patterson-Thorn sat at her vanity and couldn't concentrate enough to put her midnight blue eyeliner on. She wasn't much for crying except for on the rare occasion whether it was a small tear of happiness shed upon marrying her husband or tearing up a few years ago when she thought her daughter was going to die of a drug overdose.

So it happened again with Millie's cloud of depression hanging over her head soon after her twenty-first birthday and with Damien gone to Cairo _on business,_ Deana couldn't help but let a tear of concern fall down her face. 

After she wiped her eye with a tissue she picked up her cellphone with its screensaver of her and Damien at their wedding. Their _real_ wedding. Was it too much for the then six-year-old Millie? She took a sip of her now lukewarm coffee before pressing contact number #4.

"Hello?" asked the thirty-nine year old man who was on his second cup of morning brew.

"Hello, Jeff. It's me, Deana."

Her voice. The commanding voice of Mrs. Thorn perked up Jeff Elliott's mood quicker than the caffeine in his coffee.

"Yes, Mrs. Thorn, what can I do for you?"

"Millie won't be in the office today. Did she phone you?"

"No."

"She may or may not work electronically....."

"Is she all right?" 

It wasn't only because he was a disciple of Damien, he really, like many, cared about the welfare of one Millicent Mary Thorn. 

She was so important in the scheme of things and how she helped Damien figure out his true identity with the help from his father below was a very special occasion to the Antichrist's many followers.

"She will be. If she should contact you, don't let on that I phoned you. Thank you, Jeff."

"My pleasure, Mrs. Thorn, best wishes to you and _your family_. Hail Satan."

There was a knock on the door so Deana just kept her closure to Jeff at a simple "goodbye".  That polite knock meant it was Greta.

"Come in."

"I am sorry to bother you, Mrs. Thorn." She talked as if she were still an employee and not the girlfriend of their daughter.

"You're not bothering me, Greta. How is Millie this morning?" Not that she really needed to ask.

Greta sat on the chair that was next to the vanity.

"She's sleeping or pretending to sleep. I don't know what to do," She almost let her voice break.

Greta didn't usually cry until she was in the safety of her car. She didn't want Millie to see her tears and have her feel even more upset. "I l-love her so much. I hate seeing her like this."

"I know that you do. I don't want you to worry about anything Greta," Deana put her hair up as she talked, "If Millie doesn't want to go into town to see Dr. Martel, he will come for a home visit."

"That's good because my instincts tell me as someone who wants to be a nurse as well as my love for Millie,  that she needs to talk to a mental health professional and I don't think she would agree to go to Dr. Martel's office...I just don't...want her to get to that ---." That was it. Greta broke down. She couldn't help it.  She was at her wit's end. She was so wanting to have this forbidden relationship with Millie years ago that she had no idea she was going to attempt suicide.  And now was it happening again? All she wanted was for her Magnificent Millie to be happy in her own skin. 

Deana handed Greta a box of tissues.  Greta took one and cleared her throat to stop the tears.

"Thank you. I don't want to cry...e-especially in front of you."

"It's alright, Greta. Mr. Thorn and I know how much you and Millie love each other. The only thing I can tell you is go to school, we both know, that Millie would think it's her fault if you stayed home. She'll have a visit with Dr. Martel. And I will personally make sure as her mother that she eats and drinks a little something."

"I don't know how you can be so strong, Mrs. Thorn."

Deana thought if only she could reveal the real reason for her strength. It was her belief in her husband and his father that got her through many tough times.

"It comes from within. Did you eat breakfast yet?"

"No."  
  
"Please go downstairs and have something to eat before you leave."

"I'll try...thank you, Mrs. Thorn." It was easier for Greta to see Deana as her now former boss than her soon-to-be-if-ever-it-was-going-to-happen-mother-in-law due to them only being three years apart.

"Try to have a nice day, Greta."  It would do Millie absolutely no-good and it would put her in a constant self-blame cycle if everyone she cared about purposely failed at what they did. Deana finished her morning routine by putting her perfume on her pulse points hoping that whatever her daughter was going through it would be over with soon.

And she would pray to Satan and _his son_ to make it so.

* * *

**Millie's Bedroom**

Millie couldn't stand the sounds of people outside her door. She knew Greta's walk. She wasn't stupid. Greta wasn't going downstairs to have breakfast, she made a bee line straight to the master bedroom to talk to her mother no doubt.  _About her and the burden that she was and would always will be._ She heard her little sister somehow avoid her room for whatever reason and was going to towards the library. Her idiot brother had been downstairs for a while. She could hear the sounds of her mother's designer heels. Gone were the days of her wearing a uniform when she worked. Millie put the covers over her head as soon as she heard her mother open her door.

"Millicent, how are you today?" Deana walked towards the windows and proceeded to open the blinds.

"Oh..ugh....." Millie let out an audible sign of displeasure.

"The morning sunshine is good for you. Are you going into work?" Deana had to ask even though she already knew the answer.

Great. Millie did not want to talk and yet she was going to have to speak. She sat up and blinked, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and tried to adjust to the blinding sun.

"No."

"Are you going to work from home today?"

"No."

She was shutting down and Deana wished that Damien was here. But he knew exactly what was going on even if he weren't physically here which was a great comfort to her.

"Millie, we all love you and we all want you to get better. Would you be willing to go into town to see Dr. Martel today?"

"No." _and I love you all too, but that is not the issue. That love is not the issue. Oh fuck, Mommy._

"Dr. Martel can come for a home visit. Now, I will have Monica make you something and I will bring up a tray for you. You _HAVE_ to eat, Millie. Okay?"

Deana went in for a hug and kissed her daughter on the cheek. Millicent felt so cold. That hug was one of a girl that wanted to completely cut herself off from the world.

"Fine."  Millie debated taking a shower. Her legs were achy. Her whole body was so achy. Fuck it. Dr. Martel was her shrink, not a king.

Deana wanted to cry but she agreed with Greta there was no point in making Millie feel worse by seeing any of them be visibly upset. All Deana could do was give her daughter a loving smile before closing the door behind her.

* * *

**Kitchen**

DJ Thorn could not wait for his break to be over and to be back at the military academy for two reasons. One, he had to acquire what he needed for what he referred to in his head as _Project Kill Mark_ and Second, like his mother, he really had no use for the staff. They were supposed to do their job properly. Unlike his mother, he had no problem using his physical prowess to get what he wanted, especially with his father away. This old wench Monica Sawyer who should have been shot in the head for not knowing how to make scrambled eggs in his preferred way. He wasn't Damien Thorn. He was Damien Thorn, Jr., there was a difference. He was a different man.

Monica wanted to cry. Mr. and Mrs. Thorn's son was much more snobby and entitled than the Winslow boys who were the Thorn's closest neighbors. DJ Thorn made his mother seem like _Rebecca of_ _Sunnybrook Farm_ by comparison.  She only berated her with words and even that behavior had melted away over the years until they a just a "friendly" distaste of each other. The son of her employers had his hand clenched tight around her wrist. She didn't know if even telling Mr. Thorn about this would do any good. She just prayed to Christ that he would just stop on his own. 

"Hey! Just what do you think you are you doing?" Greta stopped in her tracks. There was no reason for DJ to be grabbing Monica.

"I'm done here." DJ let go of Monica, he'd deal with her later. Maybe after Mark was six feet under seeing if his fucking lord Jesus Christ really would save him, then he could take care of Monica and show his father and his grandfather that he was ready to be in charge.

Greta waited for DJ to leave the kitchen before she spoke, "Are you okay?"

"I'm all right." She rubbed her wrist, she hoped that the marks would go away before Mrs. Thorn would notice.

"You know Monica, I owe you an apology...." Greta could get her own coffee. There was no need to be served.

"What for?" She went back to scraping the plate and putting the uneaten food in the garbage bin.

"I think you know what for...it was Millie that made me realize how damaging....fuck. It's just so easy to get caught up into the herd gossip mentality, especially as live-in help."

The light bulb went on in Monica's head. "Oh, _that_.  Don't worry about it Greta. There's more important things going on in the world than my scrapbooks. How is Millie doing?"

"Not good I'm afraid." Greta thought she could get by with a bowl of cereal before leaving for school.

"Does Mrs. Thorn want me to make Millie something to eat?"  Millie. She was the sweetest person in this whole house. Monica thought Greta should consider herself lucky that Millie loved her. She didn't care that they were lesbians. She just didn't think May-December relationships had much chances of succeeding, but, she wanted it to work out for them, especially for Millie. She noticed her regressing right after her twenty-first birthday.

"She didn't say anything. But, of course, you know to go up and there and ask because I don't think Millie is going to come downstairs today..."

Deana didn't want to have these conversations with Monica. _She was not part of the family_ , no matter how close the bond between her and Millie was. But if Damien didn't mind their friendship then, of course, Deana was never one to interfere.

"Good morning. Yes, Monica, please make Millie a small bowl of cereal, some toast, make some tea, and some orange juice for me to take up to her."

"Yes, Mrs. Thorn. I hope Millie gets better soon."

Deana nodded. She needed to phone Dr. Martel and then she would collect Martha from the library so they could have breakfast together.

* * *

**Library**

DJ Thorn was going to need some assistance in getting _Project Kill Mark_ off the ground. He often wondered why it was his LITTLE sister that had the psychic visions and adult intellect at three-years-old and not him. It used to piss him off that it wasn't him that was blessed with such talents. Now that he was older he understood things more clearly. She was a cute little girl with her curly blonde hair and blue eyes. No one would ever suspect her, which is what made her perfect. He opened the door to find his little sister doing what she always did in the morning, pray to Satan and her father for guidance.

"Martha, I need your help with something."

"I know you do, DJ."

He sat down in the black leather chair that was by the window.

"Come here and sit on my lap...."

* * *

**Millie's Bedroom**

_Why? Mommy?  
_

Millie had to sit upright again. It hurt every part of her body. She had no choice, but to let her mother put down the breakfast tray. She had no interest in the food placed in front of her, but knew she wasn't going to be able to go back to sleep until her mother saw her take a bite of something and wash it down it with something else. Then her mother could report back to her father that "she ate today." as if she were a literal toddler.

"I want you to have a little breakfast before Dr. Martel comes over."

"When?"

"In about an hour."

"Fine." Millie took a spoonful of cornflakes and a sip of orange juice.

_Is this satisfactory?_

"Millie that's hardly enough to keep a hummingbird alive."

"May I have some privacy?"  Millie did not need to have her mother sit next to her and watch her eat. She could eat half and that was plenty.

"Did you take your medicine today?"

"Yes."

_Sigh._

"Okay, honey," Deana went over and smoothed the hair out of her eyes, "I love you." She kissed her on the forehead and left her daughter alone.

* * *

**Library**

So that's what that vision of the bottle was all about. Martha Thorn could not figure out what it meant. She never tried to force her visions when they came to her, they came to her. That way everything was most genuine.

"DJ, Daddy will be very angry...." and she knew that to be an understatement to say the least.

He unwrapped his finger from one of her blonde ringlets. "Maybe so.  But it's for the greater good."

"I can't figure you out sometimes. Do you even love us?"

"Of course. We're the chosen children. This includes Millie as she is really is Damien's daughter. Mark and his dead wife were just pawns in a game..."

"You don't have to talk down to me."

"Of course, Martha. Dad's judgment is clouded, he can't let go of Mark. There was a time for Millie's sake when he was kept at a safe distance away. When did Millicent start to feel the walls closing in? Right when he came back into her life."

"How come Satan just didn't kill him? Or how come Mommy or some other disciple was never ordered to do it?"

"I don't know," DJ sighed, "No, that's not entirely true... _I was meant to do it._..with your help. No one would suspect you because even though you are of above average intelligence you are still little and cute. Do you know what I mean? I'm kind of on Dad's shit list at the moment."

"Does your eye hurt?" She refrained from touching his bruise.

"No."

Martha knew her brother was lying.

"When I go back to school, I'll get the stuff we need. You just have to keep this between you and me. Got it?"

Martha squirmed in his lap as she knew a threat when she heard one. He was bigger and stronger. He could kill her. He wouldn't, but he could.

"I love you," He kissed her on top of her head. "really I do. But I also care about what happens to our family _when Mom and Dad are gone_."

Martha never thought about any of them dying before that she almost started to cry.

"Don't say that DJ."

"Martha, our mother is a full on human and even Damien is a flesh and blood living being... _.you know_ that he will expire one day. They both will. I hate to break it to you."

Martha couldn't help but cry as she slid off her brother's lap and ran towards the door where at that moment Deana opened it and scooped up her daughter.

"What's going on in here?"

"Nothing...."

"You're crying, Martha. DJ, what did you say to your sister?"

"The truth about the life cycle."

"He said that you and Daddy will DIE one day." 

"...hopefully that won't happen for a VERY long time."

"I'm hungry..." Martha sniffed between tears.

"Let's go downstairs and have breakfast together, sweetie." Deana comforted her daughter while giving her son the-I'll-take-care-of-you-later look.

"Okay, mommy."

Deana closed the door, leaving DJ Thorn alone with his dark thoughts.

Everything was Mark's fault. Everything.

* * *

**1 HOUR LATER  
**

Deana was grateful for the quiet. The noise of vacuums running and washing machines humming did not bother her.

Monica finally realized it was best to just do her work and not try to verbally engage until asked a question or if a command was issued.

She sat at the kitchen table and finished what was her third cup of coffee. She wanted to be downstairs on the main level as Dr. Martel was going to be arriving shortly. Martha stated she was tired and wanted to take a nap after breakfast. DJ's harsh words to Martha made her think of something she never wanted to think about, her husband not being on the Earth plane anymore. She really wished that they would die together and continue their journey in the afterlife together.

Monica softly cleared her throat.  "Mrs. Thorn."

"Yes?" Deana looked up at her.

"The scones are ready."

"Thank you."

The intercom went off to advise that Dr. Jamie Martel was here. Deana stood up and reminded Monica to have the tea ready.

Dr. Martel knew to wait for Mrs. Thorn's greeting before heading upstairs. He looked at the framed pictures that were on the table in the foyer. He had been Millie's therapist since she was ten-years-old when he just started his practice. She was such a gentle soul who had trouble realizing that it was wonderful to be in Satan's kingdom. No disciple worth their weight would ever treat Millie like an outcast. It was her that was given the task of having her father face up to _his truths_.

"Hello, Dr. Martel." Deana came in to lead him to the living room where Monica was done putting out the tea service.

"Hello, Mrs. Thorn. I'm very sorry to hear that Millicent is regressing." She was doing so well. It was his job to throw a life preserver in the ocean of her depression and pull her to safety.

"Me too. Why don't you join me for a cup of tea and a scone and then I'll take you upstairs."

* * *

**Millie's Bedroom**

_Fuck._

Millie knew Dr. Martel was here. It's not that he was a bad therapist or even a bad person. There were times when she didn't mind venting to him, but, he was a disciple and everything would be reported back to her parents. There was no doctor-patient confidentiality at all. Not in this house. Not with her. 

Deana softly knocked on the door before opening it.

"Millie, Dr. Martel is here."

"Fine...you can leave now, mom." _It's not like you aren't going to know what we talk about._

"All right. I'll be downstairs if you need me."

"Millie," Dr. Martel began.

 _"Oh no."_ Millie caught a glimpse of her cellphone charging next to a picture of her and Greta, " _Oh no!"_ And as if her body were actually on fire, she was able to get up. She unplugged her phone and thought that her bathroom was not private enough to do what she needed to do. _"I'll be right back!"_

Dr. Martel was left speechless as Millie actually ran out of her room.

* * *

**PORTLAND, OR  
**

Mark Thorn didn't know why he felt the need to lie to himself as he was the only one here. He really was on sit up number thirty and not fifty. It's not like Corrine was here with him watching him. It was the first time he felt something deep for another woman since his soulmate Maureen died. Karen, God Rest her Soul, was just a comfortable friend, but he really didn't love her, not in _that way_. Marrying her was just for the companionship and to feel someone's body next to his in bed. The guilt he felt was that his love for his late daughter Winnie was not as strong as his love for Millie. He couldn't help it. It wasn't equal. _It should have been an equal love but it was not.  
_

He took the cap off a bottled water to have a drink and debated if he wanted to use his exercise bike for ten minutes but then he'd have to take all of the clothes, that were thrown there, off it. His phone buzzed and the screen saver of a three-year-old Millie came up. Lo and behold it was Millie.

"Hi, Mark..." She was surprised that her voice was actually scratchy.

"Hello, honey. Are you okay?"

Millie used all of the energy to run up to the attic just to make this phone call. It was going to take a lot more just so she could to fake a sneeze. "I'm coming down with the flu, so I would advise you to reschedule your visit. I love you. Bye."

Mark looked at his phone.

He knew that Millie was clearly lying.

* * *

**Martha's Bedroom**

Deana didn't know if her _little girl_ needed to be comforted or if she was content in letting her mother comfort her as she rocked her in the white wooden rocking chair.

"Honey, it's okay. Are you still upset with what your brother said?" She gently twisted her daughter's curls around her finger.

"I don't want to think about daddy or you being DEAD."

While Martha did have her Satan-given gifts, she was still just a child who needed grooming and instruction on how to grow into her skills.

Deana kissed her daughter on her head.

"Don't worry about that okay? I'm here and your daddy will be home soon."

"May I order another doll?"

"Of course, sweetie." Deana grabbed the catalog that was on the side table next to her.

"Page 5."

_What is it with these daughters and the symbolism in their dolls?_

"This is daddy?" 

"Yes, mommy. Like the blonde woman is you."

"We both love you very much." She hugged her Martha tight.

"I love you both. May I see Millie?"

"She's with Dr. Martel right now."

"She _needs an_ _out._ "

"No, Martha, _she wants an escape_ , but it's important for her to have her therapy session."  Deana heard Millie sprint up to the attic and wondered what that was all about? The only reason why she didn't make a big deal about it was because she walked back to her room five minutes later.

"I still want to see her."

"You will. After lunch okay?"

"You're phone is going to ring, mommy."

"Daddy?" Deana hoped.

"No...Mark."

* * *

**Millie's Bedroom**

"Do you want to explain what had you run out of here like the house was on fire?" Dr. Martel inquired.

"How many dicks have you sucked lately?"

"Excuse me, Millicent?" He adjusted his glasses.

Millie put herself under the covers. Damn she hated all of this necessary talking.

"Come on, Dr. Martel, you're a gay man, isn't that a valid question? I mean how old are you and you're still single? Tsk-tsk." She rubbed her two index fingers together.

"I know what you're trying to do."

"What am I trying to do?"

"Unless it's necessary, and I normally don't mind chatting with you and it has nothing to do with _your father.._.but you are asking rather private questions of me."

"And that's exactly what you are doing to me. You are only going to run to my parents. Nothing is private. So why should you have privacy when I am not granted the same rights?"

"Millicent, I came here with every intention changing your medication, but I don't think that's the problem, it's all in here..." He pointed to his heart.

"Do tell, Martel."

The doctor smiled at Millie's attempt at humor.

"And actually here..." He pulled down his sock to show his 666 marking above his ankle bone.

"That is _my problem_....my parents know all of this, so this is just a colossal waste of time."

"Millie, I can't help you if you don't open up to me. Do you remember how happy you were before your twenty-first birthday?"

"No. This is not happening today. I'm _not_ doing this today. You can write that in your notebook and you can tell Deana and Damien exactly what I said. It's _not_ happening. Goodbye, Dr. Martel."

Millie turned over and put the covers over her head.

"All right, Millie, you rest. I'll be talking to you soon."

Dr. Martel texted Deana that Millie did not want to finish her session.

* * *

**Martha's Bedroom**

"The doctor is done. May I visit Millie?"

"I want you to eat lunch first, Martha. Why don't you greet Dr. Martel and take him downstairs; tell him to wait for me in the living room."

"Okay, mommy." She kissed Deana on the cheek before leaving her room.

The phone rang and Deana didn't doubt her daughter as it was indeed Mark.

"Hello?"

"Hi Deana. I cannot get Damien on the phone and this was too important for voicemail or to leave a short text."

"He's on a business trip in Cairo. How are you?"

Mark pictured Damien doing shady and highly illegal business for Thorn no doubt.

"All right. I just received a very strange phone call from Millie. I know she tried her best to pretend that she had the flu, but I know she lied to me and did not read my most recent email."

"About?"

"Me coming over to visit. She didn't read my second email to her as I told her I have another reason to be in Chicago." Mark really didn't feel like explaining his life to Deana. She was nice enough but everything was strained from the minute that whole Whispering Man bullshit started. It took Mark loads of therapy and thousands of dollars and lots of booze to even attempt to take the high road with Damien. He really could have written him off for good, _but it was all for Millie_ that he tried his best to remain civil. His love life was none of Deana nor Damien's business.

"She is not feeling very well." 

Mark was here when Millie attempted suicide a few years ago and Damien didn't mind him being in her life as long as everyone realized that he was her father.

"Please don't tell Millie I called you. I'm at the airport -- I will be there shortly."

"You could've called for the private jet."

"That's not necessary. I'll see you soon. Goodbye, Deana."

"Goodbye, Mark."

Deana decided a text was in order.

_Damien Darling,_

_Mark is coming over to visit Millie today. Wishing for your safe return._

_Love Always,_

_\- Dee._

_666_

* * *

**LATER**

**Millie's Bedroom**

Millie was so drained that it took her a while to realize that her little sister was in the bed with her and rubbing her back.

"It's okay, Big M. _Please don't cry anymore_."

Millie sniffed. "H-how long have you been here, Little M?"

"Not long. It'll be okay."

"I love you."

_Sigh. Even with this little one. Love is not the damn issue._

"I love you too...You can stay in here for a while."

"Did you eat any lunch?"

"You know I'll take a few bites because I don't feel like dealing with Mom."

"They'll put you on an IV drip again..."

Martha announced it like it mattered to Millie. It really didn't. Maybe, she'd get lucky and Greta would keep driving on the highway after nursing school and never come back. But then the forces at play would probably kill her for leaving and it would all go back to being Millie's fault. _Again_.

"It doesn't matter."

"Have you read lately?"

"No."

"Do you want to read?"

_You are just like Mommy._

"No."

"Would it better if we just took a nap then?"

"Yes."

Martha knew deep down inside her little heart and old soul that her daddy and his father would certainly make things right. It would get better. It was just a question of not if Millie would get back to herself...it was when would that result would take place.

She continued rubbing Millie's back until the two of them fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. The Visitor (And That is Part of the Problem, Doctor)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark arrives at Thorn Manor.

*****FOLLOWS CHAPTER 1 TRIGGER WARNINGS*****

 

 

**Later the same day  
**

It usually took three and a half hours to get from Portland to Chicago and Mark Thorn was on his last nerve.

He was stuck in the airport lounge as his flight was delayed _for hours_. He could have pulled the society don't-you-know-who-I-am-card, but his father to raised him to be humble. That not everyone was born into wealth and privilege.

He sat on an uncomfortable plastic chair and wanted to fling his cell phone out the window. Great. No reception. He should have taken Deana up on her offer and took the private jet. It would have brought him to Millie sooner.

It was the can't control life moments such as these, when he was _forced_ to stop that he took stock in his life.

He was the total opposite of Damien. Mark didn't want to have a servant in the house, he wanted to do things by himself, but it was Damien's insistence that he have help when Millie was small. Other single parents who weren't in the same financial class as him could juggle and do things on their own. That's what he wanted to do. He didn't want to live in a big mansion, he didn't want the no-doubt cushy job he could have had at Thorn. He wanted to be a teacher from the moment he started college. He doubted how good he was in his career over the years with the goings on in his personal life.

He wouldn't be seeing Millie now until after supper and he couldn't notify Deana that he was running late. He wanted to see _his daughter_ with his own eyes. 

One of the biggest regrets that Mark Thorn ever had was that he should have fought harder for her. He could have. Mark was convinced of it as he drank his cold coffee. Once he was out of that hospital, he should have taken Damien through the court system. Could've. Would've. Should've. Not that she would have been spared her issues. But at least he would know that he tried more. That he fought more.  He knew it would have been a total media circus with no doubt much support for Damien and less for him. But at least they would have been together. And then he could have taken Millie to Portland with him and kept Damien away from her. That's what he should have done. 

Now Millie was depressed again and Mark hoped with every ounce of breath in his body that Millie was not at the place where she would take her own life.

Fuck Damien. Everything was all his fault.

The muffled voice from the intercom stated that the flight to Chicago was finally boarding. Mark stood up, threw his coffee cup in the trash bin, and picked up his carry-on bag that was on the floor next to him.

* * *

**Thorn living room**

Deana was relieved. She hadn't heard from Mark since early afternoon when he was said he was on his way. She checked the airport times on her phone and there was a delay, but that still didn't explain her not hearing from Mark saying that he was going to be arriving later than he thought.

Never one to disobey Satan and the Antichrist's rule, if Damien had no problem with Mark in the house then neither would she, but if he used his free will and avoided them, Deana would have been pleased. Millie didn't need those complications in his life and even if Mark was a "nice guy" and all that, _he was still a distraction_. 

She couldn't concentrate on anything.  Deana missed Damien too much, the only thing she could do were the things that were asked of her, love her children, and to just be.

"Mrs. Thorn, would you like another cup of tea?" Ellie asked.

"No, thank you. When everyone is done, they may retire for the evening."

"All right. Goodnight, Mrs. Thorn."  Most of the staff still disliked her, but, everyone knew what was going on with Millie and tried not to talk about Deana behind her back.

"Goodnight."

At that moment her phone buzzed.

_Dearest Dee,_

_Please phone Dr. Martel to tell him that his services are needed as a live in and not to see any other patients until further notice._

_I love you and will see you soon,_

_-Damien_

_p.s. Remind Millie and tell Martha that I love them._

Deana tried her best to smile. At least she knew Damien was all right and Martha would have told her if he was in any kind of danger.

Before she could call Dr. Martel, she noticed she had a text from Mark.

_Hello Deana,_

_My flight was delayed and I had no Internet service...I will be arriving shortly._

"And so it begins." She whispered to herself as she went on with her task to phone the doctor while Millie Thorn had no idea about any of it as she slept upstairs.

* * *

**LATER**

**Pool house**

Fuck. He had things to do. The whimpering thing on the floor was akin to a cats. After all pussy was pussy.

"Di-d you just kick me out of bed?" asked the random bimbo in DJ's life.

"Yes," He took out a cigarette from the pack that was in the end table drawer, "You need to leave and _I'm not_ going to tell you twice."

She served her purpose. DJ watched emotionless as his quest grabbed her clothes off the floor and limped to the bathroom.

* * *

**15 Minutes Later**

Finally. Mark was never so happy to see the gates of Thorn Manor open.

He parked his rental car in the car port. He didn't need to put it in the garage as the weather was nice and the forecast was calling for rain, it would give the modest beige sedan a free car wash. 

Other than his small carry on, he was too tired to bring the rest of his things in. He texted Deana to let him know he was outside and wasn't paying attention when he bumped into DJ Thorn.

"Why don't you watch where you are fucking going? What are you doing here?"

Mark thought how typical that the boys behavior did not change from the last time he was here. He was still a rude and entitled kid. 

It just cemented what Mark had longed believed, that Damien was not a good father. Millie had her issues and their genius daughter Martha was almost above being parented.

"And a nice hello to you, DJ."

"Fuck you." He couldn't wait to start _Project Kill Mark._

"DJ, go upstairs to your room."

"Fine, mother." This asshole wasn't worth his time at the moment, him eventually in a body bag was.

"I'm sorry about that. Hello, Mark."

"Hello, Deana."  They hugged each other.

Dr. Martel should be arriving in twenty minutes and Deana hoped that he and Mark would not be interacting yet.

"I'll have someone bring your bags into your room on the second floor."  She noticed the garment bag hanging from the hook in the backseat.

"May I see Millie?"

"Of course.  I'll take you to her room."

* * *

**Millie's Bedroom**

Millie tried to read Dickens'  _A Tale of Two Cities_ for pleasure. But the words were all blurred on the page and she had no attention span to get past page one. 

She threw her book across the room where it landed by the bathroom door. 

Her eyes were tired and her heart was beating a million miles per minute. 

There were all sorts of noise outside of her door again. She was about to get up and that's when she saw her mother.

"Hi, Millie."  Deana wasn't going to say anything about the bite of sandwich and half finished glass of iced-tea that was on the tray on her dresser.

"I ate what I could, mom."

"Okay....you have _a visitor_ that would like to see you."

_Fuck. What now? Did daddy call in a staff of some fancy-smancy mental health clinic in Switzerland to help me recover faster?_

"Hello, Millicent."

_Mark...oh...damn it...fucking Hell._

Millie felt even more shame wash over her as Mark leaned in for a hug. She tried to hug him back in a way that wouldn't have him worry unnecessarily.

"All right. I'll leave you two alone." Deana smiled and took the tray with her before closing the door behind her.

"Millie," Mark held her hands, she looked skinnier than he remembered, but she was still so beautiful, "I knew that you didn't have the flu....Is it okay if we sit and talk?"

She'd rather have Mark sit beside her in her bedroom then her shrink.

"Okay."

"Is there anything that I can help you with?"

_Poor Mark always grasping at invisible straws._

"No. There's nothing that you can do." _I love you for trying._

Mark figured Millie was sick of being questioned to death, so he'd try another approach.

"May I sit here beside _you_ and read?"

"Sure..."

"I see you were reading _A Tale of Two Cities._ May I?"

Millie appreciated the courtesy. It's not that her parents weren't loving, but they were parents, and then there was the whole Antichrist drama bullshit to deal with. Deana and Damien were just different. It was all so complicated.

"It's all right, Mark."

Mark got up to pick up the book off the floor.

Millie closed her eyes as she watched Mark reach into his inside jacket pocket to put on his reading glasses and sit next to her reading Charles Dickens.

* * *

**Martha's Bedroom  
**

Satan help him. DJ Thorn did not mean it. He really didn't mean it.

Martha Thorn was not going to cry. Damn it. She was NOT going to cry. She flapped her legs up and down while her brother firmly placed his one hand over her mouth to stop her from talking.

"I don't want to hurt you, Martha, so please stop fidgeting. Just talk quietly."

The little girl was this close to biting her brother if he did not remove his hand this instant.

"Okay, Martha, on three...one, two, three..." DJ lifted his hand off his youngest sister's mouth. 

His touch hurt. She wanted her daddy.

"fuck you...." She whispered.

"I didn't mean to do it -- but you have got to be quiet. That asshole Mark is here. You are going to accompany Mom up here when she goes to the annual luncheon. Bring your phone -- I'll text you a safe word....meet me in my room and I will give you what you need...."

Martha felt uneasy about the whole thing and was having no psychic flashes at all.

"Is this really for Millie? Like do you actually give a damn about our sister?"

"I love Millie. Once she see things our way she won't be hiding under the covers being afraid of her own self."

Martha swallowed. "All right....I'd like a bowl of ice-cream before bed...."

"Ring for a servant, Martha."

He was supposed to do it like her Daddy did.

Yes, she wanted her father back here at once.

* * *

**Later**

_Fuck....Can't even fall asleep for...what? How long was it? Five minutes?  
_

Millie opened up her eyes. Again...people outside her door.

Mark put down the book on the dresser and stood up. "Do you want me to see what's going on?"

"Yes, please."

Mark opened the door as Deana was about to knock on it.

"How was _your visit_ with Millie?"

"All right. What's going on?" He noticed the staff getting a room ready.

Mark thought shouldn't that room belong to him?

"Yes, mother...what is going on?"

"Dr. Martel is going to be staying with us for a while."

Millie would have laughed out of the absurdity of it all if she weren't so tired. She loved her parents very much, but all of this was for them because her father was the Antichrist. Or so he said. Maybe their markings were all just a coincidence.  And now Dr. Martel was going to be living here? Was she that cuckoo that she needed her shrink to be IN house?

"That is not worthy of a reply at this time. I'm going to bed and the only person I want to see in here later is Greta...no offense, Mark. I'll see you in the morning.  You too, mommy. Goodnight."

* * *

**30 Minutes Later**

_It's like my words don't even fucking count for anything._

Dr. Martel stood there for what felt like twenty minutes, but was actually only two. He heard Millie grunt before turning around.

"Millie, I'll be staying for a while per your parents instructions..."

"One, I'm over eighteen. Two, you really mean, Damien. Deana just agreed like always. Say what you fucking mean."

"We all want you to get better...."

She felt the anger rise in HER. "Dr. Martel, in this house you are considered a guest while Mark, who is also my Dad, and yes, Damien is my father, I'm not disputing that. Mark is considered a visitor in the very home he grew up in. That is part of the problem, doctor. Now, I'm going to bed, and the ONLY one I want to see is Greta....goodnight."

Dr. Martel would help Millie to the best of his ability, but she had to understand certain realities or she was never going to get better.

"Goodnight, Millie."

* * *

**Martha's Bedroom**

Martha felt so uneasy about this. You didn't have to be genius to know that Damien would NOT be happy with this and yet she felt powerless to stop her brother's plan. Maybe, Millie would get on the proper path if Mark was dead? Maybe, she'd start living again. The little one didn't think DJ loved Millie at all, but Martha did, she was Big M to her Little M. She drank the glass of warm milk that Deana brought up for her. 

"I want Daddy -- when is he coming back home, Mommy?"

"We all want him back home. Soon, Sweetie.  Did you want to go to the chapel before you drift off to sleep?"

"No, I'll pray in my bed. I want Millie to be herself again."

"She will be."  Deana kissed her daughter on her forehead.  "Goodnight, Martha."

"Goodnight, Mommy."

* * *

**LATER**

**Millie's Bedroom**

Millie felt a small surge of happiness as she put her head on Greta's chest.

"Greta, please don't give up on me..." She whispered to the point as she wondered if Greta even heard her speak.

"Never, Magnificent Millie. I love you."

"I love you too, Gorgeous Greta."

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Breakfast at the Kitchen Table

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DJ thinks Millie's responses are complete and utter bullshit.

*****FOLLOWS CHAPTER 1 TRIGGER WARNINGS*****

**Next morning**

Deana stood by main window of her and Damien's bedroom to watch the rain drinking her cup of herbal tea with lemon. It should have been soothing and quiet. While she understood why Damien was gone, she couldn't help but want her husband home. At least to try and temporarily take her mind off of things, she would be driving her son back to Davidson because Damien texted his son to remind him he had no car privileges for at least six months. He then texted Deana and requested that she drive him to school instead of taking the limousine and that ungrateful sort knew about it. Deana was so appreciative to get husbands brief messages. _Oh dear Satan, please bring your son safely back to me._ It was only a matter of time before Millie saw the headlines on the Internet or if she picked up an actual newspaper and she hoped that Damien would be returning home before that happened, so they could talk to her together.

Deana felt tugging at her skirt and looked down to see Martha wearing her pretty white ruffled dress with the untied pink ribbon at her sides.

"Hi, Mommy."

"Hi, Sweetie. Did you eat breakfast?"

"Yes. I had a fruit cup and pancakes."

"You look very pretty."

"Thank you."

Deana put the cup on the coaster that was on the dresser. "Let me help you with your ribbon. I have to say I love the light pink tights with your Mary Janes."

"I thought it'd make Millie smile."

"Is that why you got all dressed up today?"

"Yes and no."

Deana grabbed the hairbrush that was also on the dresser, "Where does the 'no' part come in?"

"I want to come with you, when you drive DJ back to the academy. And go to the luncheon with you."

"Martha, the luncheon is next week." Deana advised while putting some styling cream on the girls blonde curls.

 _Fuck._ She slipped. Martha didn't want to lie to either of her parents, but, maybe DJ was right, this would help Millie, even if her brother was being a dick about it. Maybe the ends did justify the means. If she had tell a few white lies for the greater good, what was the harm in it?

"Oh...I forgot....I really miss Daddy...."

Martha was never really one to whine, but something was going on with the girl that was making her act like a typical three-year-old who would be going on four on November 27th.

"Honey, like I told you, we all do." Deana picked her up.

"I like sitting with you...but my room has the rocking chair."

"Okay, we'll go to your room then."

Deana could not wait for Damien to be home either.

It seemed like something was on the cusp of happening.

**Millie's Room**

Millie texted Dr. Martel at three in the morning that he better not dictate when their counseling session was going to begin. She did not want to be interrupted. She was getting quite sick of it. Mark was so nice sending her a text asking if he could come into her room. His little acts of courtesy meant the world to her. Greta was gone for the day. Millie tried to wash her face with some of her girlfriend's toner stuff, but it felt so sticky, she didn't really like it. She brushed her teeth and rinsed with mouthwash to find Mark standing by her door when she was finished.

"Good morning, Millicent. How are you feeling today?"

"Like hell...but that shouldn't be your problem."

"Would you -- and please don't think I'm pressuring you..."

"It's okay, Mark. Ask your question." Millie tried to avoid looking at herself in the mirror.

_I am too skinny. How could Greta love me?_

"Would you keep me company while _I_ eat breakfast?"

Millie knew he was lying, but for the good in his mind. He wanted her to eat breakfast as well.

"Yes. I'll keep you company."  Millicent felt terrible not talking to Monica much and Monica wasn't going to come up here after the last time when she got grilled by Damien. She would have to ask permission and she wasn't going to do that with Deana  while her father was gone. She did miss her. Millie felt awful for not attempting to contact her.

Mark held out his hand and smiled when Millie took it in his.

**Library**

Since Dr. Martel's room did not have an adjoining sitting room and was rather small in comparison to Millie's, Deana suggested that he use the desk in the library as a makeshift office. He wrote longhand in a brown leather bound notebook. The fact that his only patient was and could only be Millie at this time told the doctor how urgent it was from the girls parents, but especially the beloved Antichrist that she start thinking differently. He had an idea for this therapy session and he hoped that Millie would understand the severity of it all.

_Experiment - Millicent._

None of this would even be necessary if Dr. Neil Hershey did his job correctly in the first place when Millie was a little girl.

The doctor took a drink of tea and ate a forkful of now room temperature scrambled eggs. It was his job to assist Millicent Mary Thorn getting to her true authentic self. He knew he could be replaced. And it would have been his own fault if he didn't accomplish what was asked of him.

**Kitchen**

Monica was relieved that it wasn't DJ returning to the kitchen. That it was Mark entering the kitchen with Millie. The poor girl looked like she could use a weeks worth of home cooked meals. Millie going through all of this internal pain _yet again._

"Hello, Mr. Thorn. Hello, Millicent."

Monica went in for a hug and was half-surprised when Millie responded in kind.

"Hello, Monica."

"What would you all like for breakfast?"

"I can make my own cereal..." Mark stated.

"No, Mr. Thorn. I can do it. It's my job...just tell me what kind you would like... _And Millie_..."

_And that was code for please eat something._

"I'll pick at a fruit cup and drink a small amount of orange juice...it's all I can stomach."

"Then that's enough." Mark tried to smile.

"Okay." Monica did the same.

Millie played with the sugar packets that were in the ceramic holder. Her mother liked that fake stuff as did Greta. Damien liked pure sugar whenever he allowed himself to have it. She liked whenever the family would sit around the breakfast table. Whether it be strawberry tarts with her father, quick breakfasts with the family minus her brother, a late night drink with Greta, or ice-cream with Martha. It was more casual in the kitchen then whenever she was required to dress up and eat in the formal dining room as if they were in a stuffy royal palace.

"Are you sure, Millie?"

Millie saw the worry and concern in Monica's eyes.

"Yes."

"Okay...I'll make sure to give you plenty of blueberries. Now Mr. Thorn what kind of cereal _would you_ like?"

**Upstairs**

Deana wasn't about to knock on her son's room door twice.

"Come in, Mom." DJ made sure to stuff his porn magazines into his suitcase.

"We'll be leaving in fifteen minutes. Did you say goodbye to your sisters?"

"No...."

"DJ, your attitude better change around here...there is only one man in charge and it's not you."

And he better know that Deana was referring to the whole world not just went on in this house. She noticed that Damien did not send her any messages to neither remind nor tell this one that he was loved by his father. You had to earn his love and DJ was being a selfish little prick.

"Mother...are we done?"

"We're done when I say we're done...you should know that you are very lucky that your father only gave you a black eye. Think about it."

They were all so brainwashed that they didn't say. There was nothing for Damien Thorn, Jr. to say back. He could only nod to get the conversation to stop.

**Kitchen**

Millie didn't want to be rude to Mark so she picked at her fruit very slowly to give him a chance to finish his corn flakes. She was also glad that he didn't force her to have a conversation. It was bad enough she was going to have to see Dr.Martel later, but she wanted that meeting to be on her own terms. No one else's. Monica was working on the dinner for tonight and it was starting to smell good, too bad, she didn't have the desire to eat any of it. And it was one of her favorites, which made her feel awful because Monica was probably creating this on the high hopes that Millie would feel better to at least eat it.

"Millie, would you like the other half of my toast?"

He was her father too after all.

"No, thank you, Mark. This fruit is enough."  She held his hand to let him know that she cared for him and was grateful for the kind gestures.

At that moment DJ walked in the room, wearing his uniform, looking like their father, but yet nothing like him at the same time.

DJ was disgusted. Here was Millie who made the trip downstairs...for him...for him...for that mother fucking idiot Mark Thorn. Holding his hand as if he mattered. It infuriated him a great deal. He couldn't wait for the bastard to die.

"Goodbye, Millie." He refused to acknowledge Mark; his parents couldn't tell him what to do.

"Bye, DJ."

Deana was behind him. What kind of goodbyes were those? She didn't fault Millie as she was going through a trying time right now, but she did fault her son, who should have showed more empathy for his family. Millie was important not only to the lore but to the whole family, the servants all loved her, so there was no excuse for DJ to be an asshole.

"Good morning to the two of you. I'll be home in a few hours, Millie. Do you need anything?"

"No, Mommy."

"Hello, Millie!" Martha came in the kitchen and used her best upbeat voice. "How do I look?"

"Very pretty, Little M."

Martha went over to Millie so her big sister could pick her up and place her on her lap. "Thank you, Big M."

"Martha, do you still want to come with me?" Deana offered.

Because Martha knew she goofed and she was going to have to go on the drive as to not make her mother suspicious.

"Yes...bye, Millie." She kissed her on the cheek.

"Bye, Sweetie. See you later Mom." Every.sentence.hurt.

Deana gave Millie a hug and a kiss. "See you later, honey. Goodbye, Mark...if any of you need anything, please text me."

Millie couldn't wait to be back under the warm covers in her safe bed.

**LATER**

_Fuck. Let's just this get this over with so I can go back to bed._

Millie fastened her robe. She was not about to get dressed as this therapy session was in her house. She opened the door to the library.

"Dr. Martel..." She called out, her eyes growing wide.

On the big table were her mother's exotic skin rouge red Hermes Birkin with palladium hardware, one of her father's Rolex watches, and HER purple cashmere sweater. How did he get her stuff? She loved that sweater and Greta said it was very soft when she put her hands in it and through her bra to touch her breasts.

"Hello, Millicent." He opened the door of the bathroom.

"What's the deal with all of this stuff?" She knew permission was granted for him to have gotten access to this or he'd be hung from the nearest tree.

"Sit down and I'll explain...well actually I'd like to ask you a question."

"Sure...but first," Millie grabbed her sweater off the table, "This is mine."

"I only wanted to prove a point to you."

"Which is?"

"Millie if this sweater was damaged and you needed a new one what would you do?"

_Why does everyone treat me like a toddler?_

"I don't know what you're doing or what you think you are doing...but -- I think I know how to buy clothes, doctor."

"Where did you buy this one?"

"Aren't you familiar with the interlocking 'c's? It's Chanel."

"I am. So you'd go to the Chanel boutique?"

"Yes, my Mom's friend -- you know Marilyn and her husband Jack, they're all part of _this._ She gives me a discount. Well, I was using my own credit card when I worked...am I supposed to be guilty if I use my father's account? Because he has more money than... _GOD._ I guess you don't know what GOD that I'm referring to. Which means you don't know me at all....Do you remember what happened to Doctor Hershey?"

Millie hasn't talked this much in a while. It was best to let her keep going. And all sessions were recorded for Damien and Deana to listen to.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying. I never liked him...he tried to get into my father's inner sanctum and be his BFF....and then, he died....and that's how I became your patient...your responsibility.. _.your burden_ if you will."

"You are not a burden Millie."

"So what the fuck is going on with these possessions? Because I know you don't care about how the money is spent...you are looking for the whys. If I need a sweater...I buy one."

"My point is you shop at the higher end stores...."

"I have been known to shop at vintage places...again, say what you mean or I'm ending this therapy session, now, Dr. Martel."

He took a drink of water from a mug.

"Meaning you care about how you look...."

Millie looked down at her pajamas and slippers ensemble...and this outfit wasn't cheap. It cost a great deal of money to look this awful.

"Here we go....you know I saw a homeless man once, and he said my father was the lord and savior to the other side....so money has nothing to do with it....I will spell it out for you. I do not believe in organized religion. I love my parents. Love is not the issue. I'm done. I cannot deal with anymore. I'm taking a nap. I will eat a bite of lunch. Take another nap. Eat a bite of supper. And at night, I want to see my girlfriend who is a saint for putting up with me.  Goodbye, Dr. Martel."

He sighed. "Goodbye, Millicent. Take care and I mean that, Millie...the door is always open...."

And that was the moment when Millie swiftly closed the door behind her.

 


	5. All Arrows Point to Millie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boom.

****FOLLOWS CHAPTER 1 TRIGGER WARNINGS*****

**Thorn Manor**

**Gymnasium/Indoor pool portion of the house**

Mark Thorn was mentally drained.

He absolutely needed this when Millie finished that miniscule amount that she ate for breakfast and wanted privacy before seeing Dr. Martel. He decided to take advantage of a house that even more amenities than a luxury hotel if that was indeed possible. A few laps in the swimming pool were in order. He took off the white terry robe with its gold monogrammed script 'T' on the chest and threw it on chair and dove in the heated water.

**Nursing school**

Greta tapped her cellphone with the back of her hand as if it would fix the defective battery. This school only had one area in the cafeteria for free wi-fi for the students, she even pressed the button for using her cellular data but she still couldn't get the phone nor internet to come up.

"What luck..." said Betsy, a clueless sort, who only was going to nursing school to appease her parents. Greta would have run out of a hospital bed, if Betsy was her nurse.

"What?" Greta looked up.

"Class is cancelled today...there's some kind of water main break. Do you want to grab something to eat from the cafeteria before they close?"

"No...." It would be good to surprise her girlfriend and see Millie. Maybe it would being a smile to her face.

Greta wondered how many water main breaks, teachers who were in minor car accidents, construction mishaps, and the like were going to take place? She might have spent too much time watch those celebrity haunted house stories on cable, but this school seemed to have a bad omen around it.

"Oh well. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah..Betsy...have a good day."

* * *

Deana adjusted the rear view mirror of her car and smiled to see Martha sleeping soundly in her car seat. They had just finished lunch at Sgt. Hill's private residence before heading back on the road. Dr. Martel sent her a text letting her know that Millie left her therapy session. She needed to get back home to be with her daughter. Deana knew there was always something special about Millicent Mary Thorn, from her birth origins to her having _the mark._ She was the one chosen by Satan to get Damien to realize he was the Antichrist.

It broke Deana's heart that she seemed to have pulled away from the religion she was raised on and her father's place in it. Damien always told his wife on many a sleepless night, "not to worry", so she tried not to, because her husband always knew best. Deana just wished her daughter didn't have to go through all of this unnecessary* inner turmoil.

Deana took a drink from her bottled water as she heard her phone ring. That distinctive wind chime ring tone made her forget about her worries for a while. She pressed the button on the steering wheel as to not pick up her phone while driving.

"Hello, gorgeous."

"Talk softly, Marylin, I have a sleeping _toddler_ in the car."  Although referring to Martha has a toddler was a complete misnomer, but in stature she was indeed that.

"How is the little wonder?"

"She's been stressed lately."  

"I'm so sorry to hear that. Did you drop DJ off at the academy?"

"Yes. Martha and I had a small lunch at Sgt. Hill's residence and we're on our way back home now. How are you?"

"I'm doing great, darling. I saved a special necklace for you the next time you come in."

Deana needed a much welcome distraction. "What sort of necklace?"

"All of your favorites - lots of gold and diamonds. It makes a killer statement."

Deana smiled, "It sounds lovely. Maybe, we can get together for lunch next week? I need to go to Hermes and pick up Damien's special order."

"Ooh...and I have Simone, my ever faithful SA, is going to phone me when the scarf I want comes in."

It was a nice conversation with an old friend that Deana wasn't paying attention to Martha stirring in her car seat. The little girl was starting to shake back and forth, her eyes flickering open. The image she wanted erased from her tiny mind as soon as it entered.

"BOOM!" The young girl screeched causing Deana to swerve in the road to avoid them hitting the 18 wheeler that was changing lanes, "DADDY! MILLIE!"

Deana instinctively wanted to pull over to the side of the road to check on Martha, "NO! MOMMY!" She started to cry, "MILLIE! HOME!"

"Okay, Sweetie."  It wasn't until then that she heard the static in the car, she somehow lost her connection with Marilyn.

She knew her friend would understand. Deana knew she could go over the speed limit and would not be honored with a ticket for doing so. She could feel her heart race and her body shiver. Was Damien okay? What happened? There was no need to grab her cellphone out of her purse and check the news to make her little girl even more distraught.

_My darling Damien are you alright?...Oh how I hope to your father the glorious Satan that you are are alright._

* * *

**Kitchen**

Damn it. Millie hated herself for the fact that she had enough will to make it downstairs into the kitchen. She wanted a small glass of water. That was all she wanted. It was different coming downstairs for breakfast with Mark. This time she was by herself. She didn't want anyone even her friend Monica to gush, _oh Millie, how are you feeling?_  Even if Monica knew her history and had her own family battle scars, Millie just didn't feel like dealing with anyone. She put her phone down on the counter, her screensavers were in slideshow format and at that moment it displayed a picture of her and Greta at her birthday party in September. It was a good party. Everyone had a great time. It was after her birthday when she got to thinking that it became Millie falling down the rabbit hole.  She put her glass under the water dispenser of the built in wall fridge ignoring the bell alert on her phone. She was convinced that she turned off all audio settings even the vibrate was getting on her nerves. Millie took a drink being interrupted by yet another notification. What was so fucking important? She picked up her phone.

**International News: Breaking News Terrorist Attack in Cairo - At press time over 200 dead, thousands injured.**

Millie's phone felt out of her shaking hands...

"Dad-dy...." She stated breathlessly.

**Nursing school**

Greta was alone in the elevator that led the parking the garage when the lights flickered.

**Thorn pool**

Mark could not get out of the water. It was as if a sheet of glass was put on top of the water and some force was pushing him down as he heard ... _Millie....Millie...Millie_ echo in the air.

**Car**

Martha could feel a vine growing in her belly as she had her arms across her stomach.

"MOMMY! DRIVE FASTER! MILLIE...OH MILLIE!"

For the first time in a very long time Deana was actually frightened but she knew better than to show it.

**Pantry**

Monica put the last jar of jam away on the shelf when she heard the pantry door close behind her.

"What the..?

The door was locked. She had a feeling Millie was in trouble and the panic rose in her throat. Her cellphone was in the kitchen on the counter. Monica took a deep breath...intercom....She pressed the button but all she could get was static.

What in the fuck?  

Mark was finally able to get his head above water as he felt the force leave the pool. He coughed to clear his lungs but as always his feelings were always secondary and the only thing that mattered was getting to Millie. He reached for his robe before running to the kitchen where he knew Millie was.

"Really? Damn it!" Greta was about to push the emergency button and reach for the help phone when the elevator made a noise and proceeded to start again.

Millie needed her.

Dr. Martel couldn't wake up from his nap. Millie needed him. He clutched at his blanket, his eyes unable to open.

All of the arrows pointed to Millicent Mary Thorn

**Millie's POV**

The room started to spin. The young woman who tried to be a good girl to make everything and everyone right in this world fell to the ground. Unaware of how long she was there or how everyone from Deana, Greta, Mark, Martha, Monica and Dr. Martel made their way to her.

**HOURS LATER**

Millie slept while her mind was wide open as she heard a whisper in the wind of a voice she held dear.

_Miss Mary, I will be home soon. I love you._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please note: Even if this pilot should be multi chaptered please keep in mind what shows up in the pilot may not be what is in the finalized version.


End file.
